


We're Only Learning

by markev corlly (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcoholic Influence, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Bullying, Collegestuck, Homophobic Language, Humanstuck, Multi, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/markev%20corlly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were thirteen when you first met your best friend; you'd just moved to his school. He was the friendliest kid by far, and you two became friends in no time. Ultimately, you would also find out he was the biggest dork in existence. He had the most gorgeous blue sapphire eyes you’d ever seen, coupled with the fact that he also wore the most adorable black, rectangular glasses. He… He was actually rather short compared to your lanky, beanpole stature. He also possessed the softest, curliest, and messiest obsidian hair ever. You really loved to tousle it despite his protests, after which he always tried to “fix this ridiculous hair style!” Really, though, it was only a 10% messier hairstyle than what he always had. He grew accustomed to it, even though he occasionally complained about it. </p><p>You still remember how it all began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [(Never) What You Wanted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/807575) by [zenelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly). 



You sat in the nearly empty hallway, boredly playing Piano Tiles on your iPhone. Yeah, they were overrated, but you worked hard for it and it worked alright so that's that. Next thing you know, however, some doofus goes sprawling across the floor; complete with books and papers flying like planes gunning to take down King Kong, crashing down to the floor or fluttering around like some sort of sharp white butterfly. Snickering, you withdraw your legs (which had been previously stuck out across the floor, in all their beanpole glory) and peer at him over the rims of your prescription sunglasses.

"Did you honest-to- _God_ just trip over my legs, John? Are you sure those glasses are right for you?" You ask, watching him scurry about to gather up his things. "W-Well, maybe I did! Besides, it isn't even my fault since your dumb stick-legs got in the way. And yeah, they're the right kind, trust me!" He spouts nonchalantly, standing up with a stack of unorganized papers/textbooks in hand. You finally stand up, picking up the few he missed. "Here, genius," you mutter as you set the extras on top of the mini-skyscraper he'd created. The edges of your mouth threatened to curl up in a wicked grin, but you keep it in check by allowing a small smirk as you tapped the uppermost hardcover. "Wouldn't want your little _Torre pendente di Pisa_ to collapse, now would we? That'd be really unfortunate." He looks fit to bust at that remark, and it was completely worth it. "Don't you dare- Oh god, I gotta go!"

He stares in horror at the clock on the wall, turning to (hopefully) power walk to his class that he was probably late to. Waving as he leaves, you chuckle quietly and pick up your shoulderbag from the floor, dusting it off and heading outside through a pair of glass double-doors. Isn't it time for a little Coca-Cola and lemon parfait break?

About an hour and a half later, you are now relaxing outside of the campus’ student-run cafe. You attempt to balance between working on your Art II project and taking small bites from the delicious yogurt/fruit cup beside you, trying immensely not to spill any on the project. That’d be fucking chaotic, and extremely hard to undo without asking the professor about it when you had time. Dark lines were already flowing across the paper, your hands slowly coloring in with charcoal as the time goes by. It’s going to be fantastic when you get done with it!

* * *

Oh, no. Ohhhh, no. You totally forgot about the assessment today! Luckily, the girl next to you says you can borrow her notes beforehand. “Thanks, uh…” She smiles slightly, whispering, “Haley.” You sigh in relief, figuring this was the first time you two had actually met. “Yeah! Haley. Thank you.” You nod politely, looking down at the spiral paper and trying to bring back up the info you already knew. Handing her back the notebook, you get up to retrieve a copy of the test from Professor Hanson’s desk. This is going to suck.

After the excruciating exam, you enjoy a little free time. Until, that is, the professor calls you up to his desk near the end of class. “Fingers crossed, wish me luck!” you mutter under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut before you get up to make the journey to his desk. Upon arrival, he adjusts his tie and stares at you, like he was trying to figure something out, before addressing you. “Mr. Egbert, I would like to inquire the whereabouts of your assignment that was due today.” Your expression twists into confusion as you reply, “But I thought I turned it in…?” He shakes his head grimly. “The only thing I have received from you today was a folded up piece of paper. Upon opening it, the only writing present was a number and “call me ;)” on it. Is this one of your so-called ‘master pranks’?” Your face flushes, and you know you are most likely beet-red. “No, it must still be in my folder!” He gives you a reprieve and allows you to get the correct paper from your backpack, which you do so in probable record time. He exchanged it with the paper you had previously given him on accident. Professor Hanson dismissed the class shortly afterward, and yet you felt that your face was still a deep red.

Your suspicion was left unconfirmed, for as you walk awkwardly out of the classroom with the paper in your hand, you are distracted by the strangeness of it all. "Could this be from Haley, that girl who sat beside me...?" You ponder, re-adjusting your backpack. It was a lot to wrap around your head that somebody would want to give you their number! You need to re-collect your thoughts. You figure you should take a walk by the river. After all, you don't have another class until three hours from now! So you head outside in the direction of the river to bask in its serenity for a little while.

* * *

After an hour of writing, procrastinating, flirting with the barista, two more lemon parfaits, and one Shamrock Shake, you finally shut the laptop and stand up to stretch. There wasn't really much to do now, except for maybe try and talk to Dirk. Nah, he was too busy with his dumb friend Jake, who unlike Dirk, was actually a student here and not halfway across the country. Why did you ever introduce the two? "Suppose I could always just go have a scenic view of the riverside. Good thing it's not filled with trash, unlike most of the student’s mouths." You throw away your cup before walking down to the bridge, for to your convenience there is a beautiful river near the edge of the campus. Standing in the middle of the little walkway, you’re thankful that the bridge was legitimate and would not collapse, and that no roaring cars could actually disturb this rare peace and quiet that was so precious to a college student such as yourself. It was nice. Except for, y'know, you’re probably going to get in trouble for skipping even just one class. But whatever.

You huff and toss a penny into the river. Normally, any sort of change or money would be considered sacred to a college kid, but this one time you would indulge in the dumb superstition the neanderthals around your dorm held. "If you throw a coin into the river, you'll have good luck for a day. What's that supposed to mean? I'll have bad luck tomorrow? Dumbasses." You mutter, flipping another penny in. Might as well make it count. You watch as the fish crowd around the copperbacks, apparently thinking the metallic pieces were food and nipping at them. "Koi was a nice choice for the river, I have to admit. College one, Dave zero."

* * *

You spot the blond you knew as your best friend up ahead and grin at the sight, but the grin quickly turned to a flustered expression as you remember the piece of paper you grasp so firmly in your hand. You took out your phone, texting Dave before you texted the number on the paper.

EB: hey!  
TG: yo whats up mysterious stranger with the blue text  
EB: daaaave. guess what?  
TG: i am not obligated to respond to that  
TG: i feel like if i say the destined words you will respond with one sentence  
TG: the desolato  
TG: the triste  
TG: chicken butt  
EB: oh my god, dave, no! cool your italian-speaking jets or something.  
EB: that’s not what i was gonna say!

* * *

You hop up onto the balcony, balancing yourself. No self-respecting douche would push you off, would they? You blow some hair out of your face, typing away at your phone. You'd totally thought he would say chicken butt. He would, you know he would, he definitely will. You look over the other side of the bridge, an expression of concentration clouding your face. Don’t wanna fall off.

EB: look to your right.  
TG: why is there some slasher about to hack my head off and push my lifeless body off of the bridge  
TG: so that my neck which is gushing blood will stain the river red  
EB: uhhh.  
EB: just do it! i promise nothing bad will happen to you.  
TG: im trusting you on this dude there better not be a murderer beside me  
EB: there won’t be.

You turn your head slightly, looking to said right from your peripherals. There was a person? That's probably what it was. Upon closer inspection and your suspicions of a slasher being assuaged, you realize it’s the guy who fell down in the hall earlier! Otherwise known as John Egbert. You jump down from the railing, walking over leisurely. "So, were you late to class? Or did you make it _despite_ having been entranced with my superhuman looks?" Smirking, you accidentally break out into a stupid grin, but only for a split second. "I'll bet you totally were."

His face immediately flared up, the intended reaction. "Oh, shut up! And no, I was not late to class, thank God… I got there just before my professor showed up." Oh. Well. A pang of guilt ran through you as he said that. You didn’t mean to make him late, or at least, almost late. "Damn, you must be really lucky then. How many times have you been late before? I don’t think you ever mentioned it." He calmed down a bit, saying, "Twice, which is really bad because the more I’m late, the more points get taken off my next grade!"

"Jesus. Why were you late? Or rather, _almost_ late?" You ask, pushing your aviators up a bit. ".... I forgot it was Thursday.” He whispered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Oh my god, _really_? What day did you _think_ it was? Monday? Saturday?" You started laughing, wiping a tear from your eye as you quieted down. Laughing at his misfortune wasn’t really… It just wasn't your style right now. "Sorry, but I mean really man? Couldn't you set a reminder on your phone or something?"

"Well, I usually have a specific colored shirt set out to remind me what day it is, but since I didn't have enough money to go to the laundromat over the weekend I had to randomly choose a shirt from my other clean ones and the off-routine situation made me forget! You never noticed how I put them out every night? And yeah, I’ve been rushing _all day!_ " This kid is blushing like a maraschino cherry right now, oh my. You can’t help but stare at him, the upper corners of your mouth twitching slightly.

"Haha, that's a fucking dorky routine you have there. Cute. By the way, did you have tomato juice for breakfast or something? Your face is as red as my- As red as a strawberry!" You were going to say your eyes, but decided against it. It was too bright outside to take off the shades, and also what??? No??? Why would you take them off in the first place??? That was a really stupid idea your brain just had. "Maybe you should get more than one shirt for each color? Just in case the same situation happens again."

"I..." He was apparently too busy being embarrassed and rendered speechless by the previous sentence to respond to the suggestion. "Cat got your tongue, Egbert?" You quirked a brow, poking him in the shoulder. "You seem a little off your rocker." He shook his head, chuckling. "Ah, I’m sorry.... I’m just not used to people saying things like that to me!"

"Saying things like whaaaat, exactly?" It was gonna be hella funny to watch him implode internally to respond. A plan has been formed as of now to try and fluster Egbert as much as possible. "Funny that you're not used to it, seeing as how you're such a handsome guy. Not on my level, of course, but with a little work you could probably get there."

He punched your shoulder, trying to play it off and yet failing miserably. "I… I mean like- like that! People don’t usually compliment me, or make comments on my appearance at all, for that matter..."

"Not even your nerdy glasses? Or your messy, curly black hair? Or your sapphire blue eyes? Or wait, we can't forget about those adorable little rabbit-like buck teeth of yours. Those gotta be the ticket, yeah?" This was rich. This was absolutely hilarious. Nice. Good job Dave. You are the master.

* * *

"N-n-none at all!" Was he flustering you on purpose?! You don’t know, but what you do know is that the last you checked, you didn’t get this flustered just by looking at a guy of Dave's handsomeness level. Could he even remember being able to determine a handsomeness level between other guys? Was a handsomeness level even a thing? Platonically, yeah, but seriously John? That’s kinda weird. He’s your best friend.  You weren’t supposed to, y’know, feel like that. You liked girls. Right? You knew Dave liked guys, you’ve known that since you were sixteen. But you… liked girls! Yeah. You might’ve had a few guy crushes here and there, but you didn’t like Dave. Not in that way. He was your best friend, jesus! You couldn’t like him like that.

* * *

"Oh, geez. Are you okay? You're stuttering. I didn't mean to be all weird like that. Cute motherfucker." You coughed the last part under your breath, looking away from John. There's no way that he'd know that you were looking at him through your dark shades, but you still couldn't bring yourself to look at him. A feeling of intimidation dropped like a stone in your gut, ugh. "Sorry. My bad."

"...D… Don’t be. I appreciate the compliments! It’s just that I’m not used to getting so many at a time… let alone at all." He smiled, sending a feeling of warmth through your body. What the fuck? Did he even know what he could- was doing? "Oh, alright. I'll make sure to tone them down to not every five seconds. You, on the other hand, must promise to not be late anymore. Alright?" You stuck out your hand, slightly hoping he won’t strike the deal. It’d be kinda hard not to just say what you were thinking anymore.

* * *

"I promise! And… to return the compliments, I really like your hair… and your freckles are pretty cute, too." You were surprised that you didn’t struggle or choke out those words. You thought it would've been really hard to return them, but in reality it felt as if you were reciting your favorite song for the fourth time that day. Woah. It felt good to say that, actually! People don’t really take your compliments seriously. You tilted your head a bit, grinning. Two can play at a game of flattery.

* * *

"Really? I mean, thanks man. 'Preciate it." You cough into your hand, a light pink dusting your cheeks. People usually told you things like that, but with this dork, John, it just feels different. More meaningful. "Anyways, I still have some Photography I shit to work on and a project for Art II and shit, wanna go crash back at the dorm?"

"It’s getting time to head back, yeah." He gave an adorable grin to seal the deal, and if he were not actually standing there you would be jumping up and down in joy. “Radical. Wanna go be crushed in Mario Kart? For the millionth time. You really suck at that game, you know?” You smirked, walking along with him back to your shared dorm room. “No way! We all know that I’m totally the best.” he retorted. As you two walked, you both equally trash-talked each other until there was no more to say. After that, you walked in silence until you randomly began to hum Pearl Jam’s Last Kiss. It was a really good song, actually… Yeah.

* * *

You glance over at Dave as you two walked, listening to him as he hummed quietly. It sounded… nice. Dave would sing for you, sometimes, but shortly afterwards he would retreat to his lame bottom bunk, which was mysteriously closed off with blackout curtains. Well, it wasn’t really mysterious. You knew why he had them up. It’s because of his eyes. Those beautiful ruby orbs of his. Honestly, you don’t know why he hated them so much. Sure, they caused him vision problems like nystagmus and, in his case, a moderate to severe sensitivity to light, but they were simply stunning! Skype never really did them justice, and the rare chance to see them always sent thrills and raptures of unadulterated joy through you- Your train of thought is interrupted as you come up in front of the open door, Dave disappearing inside in his typical Texan ninja way. “Dave. what the fuck. Why is there a Lego on the floor. Dave?” You wince in pain as you step on a little yellow lego, rubbing your foot and plopping down on the couch that Dave has in front of the TV.

He shrugged, crashing beside you. “Oh, hey, I never got to tell you that thing from earlier!” You exclaim, your eyes widening behind the glare of your glasses. “Hm?” Dave mumbled, turning slightly to look at you from- what the fuck, how did he manage to cocoon himself in blankets so quickly? Whatever. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure a girl gave me her number earlier today!”

* * *

You were listening, you were, but now- Now you just can’t. The sound of John’s voice, the rustling of the blankets, it all fades out to white noise and your field of vision is blinded by a bright white light. John got a girl’s number? You feel a surge of possessiveness, of jealousy going through you, but you shouldn’t. You aren’t supposed to feel like this, because.

It’s just John!

John is your best friend, and you should be happy that he’s finally gotten out into the playing field. You, naturally, are supposed to be doling out some shitty encouragement to him and being there for him when a girl stands him up or dumps him or shit like that but you just- You’re filled with possessiveness, jealousy, and anger, and you don’t like it.

You snap back to reality as John shakes your shoulders. “Dave, were you even listening?” His taut voice floats back in, sending another prickling wave of jealousy through your skin for reasons unknown. You scan his face for any sign of reprieve, but after a few seconds you shake your head. “I’m sorry, dude, I kinda spaced out there. Come again?” He goes on to explain about a girl that sits beside him in Biology. Haley, or some other basic white hoe like that. “Mhm, yeah, she sounds _carino_ ,” you deadpan every so often, nodding your head in accompaniment to show that you are, if at all, listening to him. He has a smile on his face, but you aren’t paying enough attention to be able to discern whether its because he likes the girl or because he’s just ecstatic that he’s not a hopeless romantic, or if it’s even genuine, to say the least.

* * *

You know he’s not listening to you, you’ve known it since you first told him about Haley. He’s had a peculiar look on his face, but you weren’t about to question it. He was probably deciding whether he would approve of her or not. He’s always had that particular little quirk, an air of protectiveness about him that you always took with the faintest hint of skepticism as possible.

Glancing over at Dave, you notice he’s zoned out again. He let out a tired mumble of “Yeah, suh. Ain’t she wonderful. Y’all better use protection now, you hear?” You laugh off his ridiculous sleepy Texan drawl and scoop him up in your arms, despite him being bigger than you. “Well, aren’t you just a little blanket burrito?” You giggle, setting him down gently on his bed. After cautiously taking off his aviators, you set them on top of the bedside chiffarobe. Gazing back down at his pale, freckled face, a warm _amoureux_ (or as Dave would say it, _affezionato_ ) feeling spreads throughout your body. The knowledge that he still wears a present you gave him years ago makes you content as you shuffle over to your bed’s ladder, tucking your glasses into a little hanging pocket you had created for them.

Crawling under the covers could not feel more relaxing as of now. As soon as your face hits the cool pillow, it’s no contest whether consciousness still has a grip on you. You’re out like a light. A slight tinge of a guilty voice haunts your dreams, whispering in the background,

_You shouldn’t be dreaming about him._


	2. Author's Note

Bad news, guys.

I've fallen out of the Homestuck fandom.

Which means... that this will likely never be finished. 

I just don't have any motivation for this any more. It feels like a stone weighing on my back. 

Sorry. I decided to focus on other things.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoot me for the short beginning chapter, but I plan on either A) making it longer or B) writing Chap 2 as probably a lot longer, if not a little bit! Anyways. As you may have read/guessed, this is a JohnDave story and bluhhhh I don't know how to write AN's. Sorry. Anyways hope you enjoy, leave a comment, stuff like that!
> 
> <3


End file.
